turn the world upside down
by stopthenrewind
Summary: Seven different scenarios, seven different ways things could have gone. And yet, always the same girl. Jeff/Annie.


**Note:** I don't know what this is, honestly. I just needed to write it. But I hope you like it anyway, and I also hope that, from the summary, it makes sense. To make things a bit clearer: the seven scenes are not connected nor linear.

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><p><strong>(00)<strong>

It's 2010, and Jeff's come face to face with Annie Edison.

He stares at her in confusion, a tiny smile forming on his face, and he wonders what that light feeling in his chest is. "I thought you'd left."

She shakes her head, and she's smiling back a little, and that feeling in his chest grows, threatening to envelope him. "I couldn't go."

::

**01.**

It's 2009, and Jeff is patting Annie on the head before quickly walking away.

He still feels a little (okay, a lot) winded from earlier, and he remembers it with disturbing clarity, the way she suddenly grabbed his collar and kissed him with a lot more finesse and technique than he would've expected from an eighteen-year-old girl who doesn't really have the best experience in the relationship department.

But then, you know—she was _kissing _him, and he was kissing her back, _really _kissing her, because he's kind of wanted to do that since that (stupid, _stupid_) day she let her hair down in the study room and ever since then all he could think of was kissing her and running his hands through her hair. He remembers the way she'd felt pressed against him, the way her tongue had swept ever so teasingly along the seam of his lips, and then all thoughts about _eighteen _and _Britta _and _a hundred people in the audience _had instantly flown out the window.

(Because it's _Annie _and she tastes like bubblegum lip gloss, which is—it's okay. It's _nice_. He's discovered that he _likes_ bubblegum.

He just kind of likes kissing her even more.)

Which—

He stops in his tracks and turns his head, and his eyes follow her tiny, sweater-clad figure in the distance as she walks away, shoulders set determinedly, and she doesn't look back.

He kind of wants to turn around, follow her back to her car. He wants to follow her, because he can still taste the bubblegum flavor on his lips and it's _okay _and it's _nice _but what he really wants to taste is _her._

He almost takes the step forward. Almost.

But then he doesn't.

Because he likes to think he still has morals or good values or whatever, and she's _eighteen_ and he's fucking thirty-five, and following her and _maybe_ kissing her again would be a very, very bad idea.

Fucking morals. Fucking Greendale.

::

**02.**

This time, Jeff thinks, you know what, it's late, he'll just walk her to her car. You know, just to make sure she gets there safely.

Or something.

So Jeff stops in his tracks and follows her.

(He's _not_ thinking about bubblegum lip gloss.)

His strides are long and quick, and soon he's caught up to her, smiling down at her charmingly as he pokes her shoulder and presses close to her side.

"Oh," Annie says, surprised and a little flustered at his sudden arrival, "Jeff. I thought you were...?"

"It's kind of late," he tells her, her shoulder brushing against his arm, and it's kind of endearing how short she is right next to him, how she has to tilt her head to be able to see his face. He doesn't really know when he's ever found someone else to be _endearing_. "And this school can't even afford lights in the parking lot that actually work. So I thought I'd walk you to your car." And really, that's all there is to it.

(He's _not _thinking about the sweep of her tongue.)

"Oh." Her answering smile is shy and a little hesitant but a lot flattered, all the same. "Thanks, Jeff," she says, looking down at her feet. "That's really sweet of you."

Her fingers brush against his as they walk, and then she's smiling up at him with those huge blue eyes, and _really_, he's _not _thinking about the heat of her body pressed against his.

No, he's not thinking about that at _all_. Because she's _eighteen _and his _friend _and really, this is just a friendly, platonic walk to her car because it's late and who knows what's lurking in the shadows of the Greendale parking lot? Leonard? Starburns? Or, God forbid, _Chang_? Yeah. He's just being, you know, protective. As a good friend should be.

A good friend who also shouldn't be thinking about making out with his eighteen-year-old friend. Even though she's incredibly smart and _endearing _and kind of really hot, and he's maybe kind of attracted to her. A lot.

"Well," she says, pausing awkwardly next to a beat-up old sedan, "this is me."

She's tugging at the ends of her hair, still looking nervous, and he tries not to stare at her, because he remembers her face at the study table with her hair down and her eyes bright, and _man is evil. _He swallows quite audibly. "Great. Well, then."

"Thanks for walking with me," Annie says, foot scuffing against the concrete, and she's not looking at him, which he thinks is probably a good thing. "See you tomorrow, Jeff."

"Anytime, milady," he says, and he's already about to turn away, because his heart is pounding, and he's starting to have a little _situation,_ you know, down there, but _then_—

Annie stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and really, it's all _her_ fault.

Because then he's suddenly pressing her against her car, her body warm under his hands as she stifles a little gasp and looks up at him with wide blue eyes that really should be made illegal. Her fingers slide up his chest and then her hands are clutching at his collar and he _kisses_ her, deep and slow and deliberate, and you know what? Fuck morals.

He pauses after one kiss, giving her a chance to pull away, even though his heart's pounding and he's pretty sure she can feel the way it beats against hers, fast and wild and frantic.

_Man is evil,_ he recalls, and he wants to give her an out, wants to make this her choice as much as it is his.

But she _doesn't_ pull away, and she catches his bottom lip between hers, and he moans when he tastes the bubblegum lip gloss on his tongue, savors it, as he licks his way into her mouth.

But then he's kissed all of the bubblegum away and he's just tasting _her_, and she tastes so distinctly Annie that he kind of flirts with the thought of maybe never, ever stopping this.

"Jeff," Annie murmurs against his lips, hands pushing gently at his shoulders, and he pulls away reluctantly, panting and a little embarrassed by how breathless he is.

"Um." He's a little (okay, a lot) winded, and she's still pressed against him, her small hands resting against his chest, and this is—this is _okay_. "I don't—"

It kind of relieves him a little to see Annie just as out of breath as he is. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," he says, but he's not really sorry, because he already wants to do it again. "I just really, really wanted to do that."

She's smiling a little as she rests her forehead against his neck, and he feels a weird tingle, all the way down to his toes when she laughs softly. "You, um, caught me off guard. I didn't think that..."

He tightens his hold against her waist, and he still tastes it, bubblegum lip gloss and _her,_ lingering deliciously on his tongue. "That was me going off-book." He smiles down at her and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. "So now we're even."

::

**03.**

There's no Troy to interrupt their kiss inside the bathroom.

She doesn't try to stop him and he cups her face in one hand, his other threading gently through her hair. She positions her body between his legs, and he feels a kind of ache deep inside him, a kind of longing, when Annie's tiny hands cradle his face in such a gentle way that makes him tug her even closer to him as he slants his lips over hers slowly, almost carefully.

But then she breathes against his lips, "We should stop," and pushes him away, straightens her clothes and doesn't meet his eyes. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to kiss me like this and then tell me _and_ yourself to forget about it. And then tell everyone else it was a mistake and therefore making me feel like a stupid little girl for reading into things."

She steps away from his touch, and this time, he feels a different kind of ache. "Annie—"

She leaves, and she leaves his mind reeling and his heart hammering.

::

**04.**

"My love for you is immeasurable," he says, and his eyes swing slowly to the left, to the woman in pink who tilts her head, meets his eyes and holds his gaze for a beat that seems to go on forever. "Even when you split it seven ways."

Her pink lips curve into a smile, the smile that still manages to knock the breath out of him, and if his gaze lingers for a bit too long, nobody even notices.

Or maybe everybody does. But when Annie meets him first and she's a blur of pink and soft brown hair and smiles—she throws her arms around his neck, leans in to whisper, "I'm so proud of you, Jeff"—and she's one of his best friends, for the first time in maybe _ever_, he can't find it in himself to care.

Later, he finds her standing on the front steps of the library, her back to the doors as she hugs her bare arms against the cold.

"Hey," he says, standing close to her that their arms are brushing.

She turns to smile at him. "Hey."

He stares down at her and smiles back, and he remembers things: same steps, same lights, same girl.

But this is a different Jeff now.

And a different Annie.

And this time, he thinks, _Fuck it,_ and takes the leap.

He leans forward, and she's there to meet him halfway.

::

**05.**

"I can't concentrate."

Jeff looks up from studying the brochures he's picked up from Pierce's church-slash-cult.

Annie's staring hard down at her open binder, gnawing her bottom lip between her teeth. They're supposed to be planning Pierce's funeral, but Jeff notices that her binder's upside down and that the page she's currently looking at is full of chicken scratches and angry scribbles.

He puts his phone down carefully and stretches out a hand across the surface of the table until it covers the tight fist that her right hand has formed. "You okay?"

She sighs and flips her binder closed with her free hand. "No," she admits, and she just sounds frustrated and tired.

"It's okay to be sad, you know," Jeff says, his hand curling more firmly around her fist, and he feels it soften against his skin. "Pierce is…well, _was_…our friend."

She slowly opens her fingers under his and curls them around his palm, almost as if in unconscious thought. "I just…I feel bad. I haven't seen him in two weeks, and I was supposed to have dinner with him at his mansion the other day but I was so caught up in the ass crack bandit case that I…"

He feels his heart in his throat when she laces their fingers together and holds them tightly. "It's not your fault, Annie."

"I know." She bites her lip. "I just…I'm sad about Pierce. But I'm also sad about not catching the ACB. That's why I can't concentrate." She glances up at him. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," he says, because he knows it'll take so much more than that to make Annie a bad person. "It doesn't."

She sighs, then stares down at their interlaced fingers, and he sees the way her face shifts to one of surprise, almost as if only noticing their hands for the first time. She's silent for a minute, just staring at their hands, but she doesn't make a move to pull away, and neither does he.

After a while, she says quietly, "We almost had him."

He sighs. "I know."

She sighs again, too, then gently pulls her hand away. "The case goes cold again," she says, not looking at him, and this time, he kind of wonders if she's still talking about the ass crack bandit.

"Yeah." He pauses, then says, "But I won't stop until the ACB is caught and this case is closed."

He watches as a tiny smile forms on Annie's face. "Neither will I," she says, followed by a beat of silence, and Jeff thinks that Annie's maybe done talking.

But then she says, quietly that he almost doesn't hear her, "Maybe the dean _was _right," then flips her binder back open, focusing back on the funeral and clearly ending the conversation.

But Jeff just stares at her, at the way a curtain of hair falls across her face, and his palm still tingles with the smooth touch of her skin.

He remembers her hands on his shoulders and the way she'd smiled up at him and the way he'd stared down at her, breathless and grinning.

It makes him say, "Yeah," and then waits until she's looking up at him again in surprise. "Maybe he was."

"What—" He watches her take a deep breath. "Jeff—"

"Annie," he says. Slowly, carefully. Nervous. Scared. But then he takes one look at her face and he knows he's gone. "Maybe…maybe it wasn't all that platonic."

Annie's eyes are wide, but the expression on her face softens as she releases a shaky breath. "_Oh_."

"Yeah," Jeff says again, feeling everything all at once, and he wishes she doesn't notice that his hand is shaking, "oh."

He continues to look at her, and there's still surprise registering on her face at the sudden turn the conversation has gone.

But there's also the beginnings of a smile, and really, he's maybe tired of trying to deny things.

::

**06.**

They're the only two people still in the study room. He's trying to grade papers, and she's going over some notes for Hickey's class while also trying to keep an eye on his work to make sure he does it properly, and it's just—_nice._ He hasn't really had the chance to be alone with her since—well, since Racquel, and all that came with it.

Even though she's focused on her books and papers that they're barely even talking, and the air's more awkward than it is comfortable, but hey, you know, he's with Annie. That's enough.

"Hey, look," she says, pointing to the screen of her laptop, "there's an article on Borchert again."

He leans in closer, and he catches a hint of her scent, and it hits him hard, remembering stupid Racquel and _we have to let each other want what we want _and _maybe it's time to move on._ "Promoting Racquel again, I see," and he tries not to wince.

"He really should destroy that thing already," she comments as neatly puts her laptop aside. "His…obsession with it cannot not healthy."

He nods, and he really, really needs a subject change. "Mm-hmm."

"You know, speaking of Racquel."

Oh shit.

"Please don't ask me about Racquel," he says, and no, he does _not _sound panicky.

She shrugs. "Well, you never did tell us how the door opened."

Annie's not looking up at him, though, still focused on her book, and she doesn't really seem too interested in hearing his reply. Or maybe she's not expecting an answer in the first place.

_It was you, _he wants to say.

He opens his mouth, and he feels the words on the tip of his tongue. _It opened because of you._

He feels kind of let down and a little annoyed that she's not even looking at him, and he wants to _say it._ Make her listen. Make her understand.

Let her _know._

He takes a deep breath and he _means _to say it.

Instead he says, "I have no idea how it opened," and he very much hates himself afterwards, especially when she doesn't even glance up at him as she just shrugs again.

"I figured," she says, sounding faraway and distant, and sometimes, he really, really hates himself for being a goddamn coward when it comes to her.

And he wants to be done being a coward.

::

**07.**

Annie opens the door to apartment 303 and finds Jeff standing there, looking…well, not good.

"What—" Annie gasps. "Jeff?"

"Hey," Jeff wheezes, a hand on his chest as he tries to shoot her a grin. "Oh, god. I'm sweating through my shirt. Shit. This is…not how I imagined this happening."

"Imagined what happening?" Annie tugs at his arm, pulls him inside the apartment. "Did you…run all the way over here?"

"I…might have," Jeff acknowledges as he bends over to catch his breath.

Annie sprints to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. She's frowning when she returns with a glass that she hands to him. "From…the corner of the street?"

"No," Jeff says between gulps. "From…my apartment."

"What?" Her frown deepens. "Jeff. What?"

"I just…" He shakes his head, sets down the glass on the island. He runs a hand through his hair, and this…this had seemed like such a good idea in his head an hour ago. "I just. I just…"

"Jeff," she grabs his hand and tries to drag him over to the nearest chair, but he refuses to budge. "Are you drunk?"

"…Maybe."

"Jeff!"

"Look, I'm sorry, but this is important and scotch is the only thing that's going to be able to get me through this. In my defense, I only had two glasses."

"What? Jeff, come on, you need to sit down and take a breath because you're not making any sense."

He shakes his head, stubborn, and he keeps running a hand through his already messy hair, looking agitated. "Look, this was all Abed's idea. Okay, I mean, not really, but he planted it in my head."

"What's all Abed's idea? Look, Jeff, just sit down and rest first, okay?"

"No," he insists, then he starts pacing in her living room. "No, I can't. I have to do this while I'm still high on adrenaline and obviously very, very stupid and, fuck it, why did I ever think this was a good idea—"

"Jeff," Annie exclaims, watching him burn a hole on the floor, looking like she doesn't quite know what to do. "Stop _moving _or I swear to God I'm going to slap you so hard you're never going to want to drink scotch in the middle of the day ever again."

Well, _that_ shuts him up. "Well, geez, Annie. You could've just asked me nicely."

She's trying to hold back a smile, he can tell. "Let me make you a cup of coffee, okay? Sit down, rest."

"No, wait. I should…I should do this first." He nods, looking at a point in the distance. "Yeah, I should do this first."

"Do what first?"

"I—" He rests his hands on the kitchen island, his back to her, and he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "Do you remember…four years ago? In…in the men's bathroom at Greendale?"

"I…" Annie begins, then stops abruptly. "What—where are you going with this?"

"You asked me." He's still leaning against the cold marble, still closing his eyes. Still with his back to her because the alcohol in his system may be giving him some misguided courage right now but it isn't enough. Not for this. Not for what he wants to do. "You asked me, then. Do you remember?"

She's silent for a minute, and Jeff hears blood pounding through his ears, his hands shaking against the cold surface of the countertop. "Yes."

He turns to face her slowly. His eyes fall somewhere between her feet, and he notices she's—she's wearing _bunny slippers_. He smiles, and he feels this sudden rush of affection for her that makes him take a deep breath, and it steadies him a little, somehow.

He says to her feet, "You asked me what I wanted."

She crosses her arms in front of her chest, breathing in sharply. "That's not exactly what I asked."

He sucks in another breath. "I know." He pauses, then pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it with shaking fingers. "I was thinking about the things I wanted—I even wrote them down in a notebook. Want to hear it?"

"I—"

"Well, most of it's pretty stupid, really." He waves the paper around carelessly. "Things like getting Alan's license revoked and actually spending Christmas with my mom instead of ignoring her calls during the holidays and maybe becoming a legitimate law professor in a good school someday."

Annie just stands there, watching him, but her eyes have softened. "Jeff."

But he's not finished.

His voice is quieter now, his hand falling to his side. "I also wrote down really stupid…_fantasies_. Like getting the hell out of Greendale to vacation on a tropical island, and maybe moving into a real two-story house with the stupid white picket fence thing and a stupid _dog_, and maybe just kind of…finally settling down." He pauses. "And maybe I _am _settled down. Or getting there, anyway."

Annie's completely silent now. And it's fucking nerve-wracking.

But Jeff's on a roll now, and he's not sure if this is the alcohol or Abed's voice egging him on in his head, or maybe it's just _her._ All he knows is that this—this is all out there now. There's no turning back.

So he says softly, "And it just—it _hit _me. And it fucking terrified me. Because suddenly I was thinking of these things—these things I've fucking loathed my entire life—things I didn't even believe in before Greendale. And I was thinking of having all of it with you."

He raises his eyes and meets hers. "Because that's what I want the most. You. I want you."

Four years later, Jeff Winger finally gives Annie Edison an answer.

(He finds that she tastes nothing like bubblegum anymore.

And it doesn't matter. Because now he's just tasting _her_.)

::

**(00)**

It's 2010, and Annie Edison's standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

And when she pulls away, he stares down at her, and then he thinks, _Oh_.

And then he's surging forward, and Annie's fingers are grasping at his arms, and she's kissing him with all that she has—and maybe he's giving just as much back because now he knows: he wants this and he wants _her_, and he thinks:

It's her.

It's been her all along.


End file.
